Brie
This giant boat is something out of a fairy tale… well, I’ve just found out that Alpha Alex not only has these three but two more tucked away in some island chain about as far from the capital of KiloKilo as he could get. It’s hard to believe these boats even exist. It doesn’t make sense. This room and it’s finery doesn’t make sense.
I watch Logan resting only a few feet away, his large frame eating up the dainty armchair perched in front of a dormant hearth. He hasn’t touched any of the food laid out for us, but I have. I’m on my second bowl of stew, swiping the nearly empty bowl with my fourth or fifth piece of rustic sourdough bread. With food in my body for the first time in what feels like days, I’m acutely aware of my senses and the room around me… and the people within it. The ship's ornate details come into startling view as I scan the room under the shadow of my eyelashes, carefully not to look directly into Alpha Alex’s or Beta Sawyer’s eyes.
We’re in what I believe are the Alpha’s personal rooms. It’s exactly what I imagined it’d be–rich furnishings. Gold glinting in the light of a crystal chandelier. Treasures and books piled on shelves. There’s even a hint of disheveledness to the space, like the Alpha can’t be bothered to organize. He’s probably too busy pillaging, of course, being a pirate, and all.
A flash of strawberry-blonde hair tears my attention from the space as Monica leaves an adjoining room, coming to a stop next to the couch I’ve been slouching in, eating as much as I can get my hands on.
Monica glances down at me, giving me a not-so-subtle once over before setting a stack of clothes beside me and waltzing away. Her red nightgown and matching robe makes her look like a beautiful… strawberry, especially with her almost pink hair spilling over shoulders. She gracefully perches on Alex’s desk and crosses her long legs, looking slightly bored as she rolls her neck and fixes her mate with a scalding look.
I don’t blame her. The grandfather clock taking up an entire corner of the room chimes 3:00 A.M., and the men are deep in conversation regarding the shipwreck and how Logan and I ended up on the beach. I’d love to be back in bed right now, too.
Logan hasn’t said a word to me. He looks in my direction on occasion like he’s confirming I’m still here, but otherwise, his attention is fixed on the Alpha and Beta.
Sawyer paces in front of the hearth, asking questions as Logan explains, in gory, vivid detail, the wolf fight and discovery of the dead captain then fighting with that last wolf on the deck.
“It was premeditated,” Logan explains, “One of the lifeboats had been cut from the ship. The life vests were nowhere to be found, and the door leading to the upper deck had been purposefully jammed.”
“Why would these men–these criminals, as you call them–want you dead?” Alex leans his thigh on the edge of his desk, reaching out to stroke his knuckles along Monica’s arm. She doesn’t look away from Logan, however.
Logan scratches his neck, casting me a glance under the guise of stretching out his sore body, and shrugs. “They likely wanted to rob the boat–”
“That’s not true,” I say, my voice wobbling.
Logan goes rigid, his eyes cutting to mine and holding with an intensity that takes my breath away, but I’ve had a long time to think about our situation while he was sewn back together again.
All eyes are on me, now. Even Monica, who I doubt trusts me at all, sits up a little straighter.
“What’s the truth, then?” Alex asks.
“I’ll tell you why we ended up in the water if you tell us why you’re hiding out in this lagoon.” I slide to the edge of the couch, setting my empty bowl down on the coffee table. With practiced grace, I cross my legs in a very lady-like fashion and knit my fingers around my knee. I straighten my spine and ignore the fact I’m wearing nothing but a shapeless nightgown and that my hair is totally out of control, channeling an energy that makes this situation seem like I’m sitting in front of some high-ranking members of a nearby pack to Veiled Valley, taking about the crime rates, or trade, or whether Maeve’s temper tantrums will have an effect on their upcoming festivals.
Logan takes me in, watching the way I straighten my shoulders and shake my hair out of my face before settling the Alpha with a look of bored indifference right as I say, “I’m a princess of Eastonia. My mother is an Alpha, and my father is the commander of the Queen of Eastonia’s–my grandmother, Queen Ella–of a very specialized faction of her royal forces, of which Logan happens to be a captain.” I tilt my head in Logan’s direction for emphasis. “We were traveling to Maatua through the strait when we were caught up in the storm. I believe the assailants were planning to rob me, or hold me for ransom at the Port of Maatua, but the storm gave them an opportunity for far more.”
Sawyer stops pacing, now leaning on the far wall with his body turned toward one of the windows, but he looks at Alex, raising a brow.
Alex, however, has his eyes narrowed on mine.
Without skipping a beat, I continue, “Logan was right to hide my true identity when we were found. As you can imagine, I’d just been hunted down and trapped on a boat with men who wanted to hurt me in some way. He was protecting me.”
“As a mate should,” Monica smirks.
I ignore her, adding, “That’s the truth. I am a royal. A princess. Logan is–is my mate.” Well, that’s a lie, but the truth is far more complicated than I’m willing to divulge. “We’re now stranded here in KiloKilo.” I lean forward, not allowing the group to jump in with their lines of questioning. “But I think you might also be stranded here in this lagoon.”
Subdued fury flashes behind Alex’s eyes. Sawyer bristles, and Monica… well, she’s grinning at me like a cat.
It takes all my strength not to look Logan in the eyes. He’s probably fuming right now, thinking I’ve put us in a precarious situation by telling these strangers who I am after barely surviving another group of strangers who wanted me for nefarious reasons. Who’s to say Alex and his pack won’t see this as an opportunity to do the same?
Alex leaves the desk and begins to pace, tapping his chin in thought. “And your family will be looking for you?”
“Of course. But… KiloKilo and Maatua are no longer allies.” I watch him closely, noticing the way his blue eyes darken a shade as he glances at his mate. “Even if my family thought we’d somehow washed up here, your king–”
“Not my king,” Alex cuts in sharply, and I’ve accomplished all of my hopes and dreams about this conversation. The Alpha shows me a single crack in his armor, and I lunge for it.
“So you are… on the run?” I tilt my head, giving him my most diplomatic smile.
“My pack, and a few others, cut ties with the royal family of KiloKilo decades ago. We’re as good as rogues. Anyone who doesn’t fall under their… iron grip of dictatorship is deemed… criminal in nature. We’ve done what we’ve had to do to survive.”
“So you live on these ships full time?”
“Not necessarily,” he says, shaking his head. His eyes meet mine. “But recently, yes. We’ve been trying to make our way home for the past six months, but the royal navy has been making that… close to impossible.”
“Why would they care?” I ask, curious. “If they deem you rogues, shouldn’t that be that? You simply… don’t get to enjoy the perks of having an Alpha King protecting your pack, ensuring peace?”
Alex swallows hard and closes his eyes. “It’s complicated.”
“We need to know what we’re getting into,” Logan says, his voice dry and raspy from lack of use, “especially if you’re going to continue asking for my help–”
“What neither of you seem to understand,” Alex cuts in, “is that there is no returning home for you, either of you. You cannot just… sail across the veil, the barrier, whatever you want to call it.”
“Well, we got in,” I counter, but Logan cuts me a look, and I purse my lips, biting back whatever future comment I’d been ready to make.
“And that’s a mystery in itself I’d love the answer to because it would make leaving all that much easier.” Alex takes several steps away from us, turning toward his Beta, saying, “Have them set up in a state-room, something bigger than they have now.”
Sawyer nods and walks away. I watch him go then turn back to the Alpha as Monica says, “The rest can wait until morning, my love. Let our guests sleep.”
I scan her face. While Alex showed me a glimpse of his emotions–showing me the stress behind his eyes–Monica is like stone.
Her eyes cut to mine, friendly but sharp, like she knows exactly what I’m thinking right now.
We have no choice but to trust them, and they want something from us, which means we're… safe, for now.
Safe, but with no way to contact my family. These people aren’t going to turn us over to the authorities under the crown of KiloKilo, either, which might not even matter in the end. I don’t know the ruling family or their politics. This place–this sweeping island system covering hundreds of miles all hidden behind rough seas and almost constant storms, is being kept a secret on purpose.
I have a feeling if whoever’s in charge of KiloKilo finds out we’re here… it’ll be worse than this.
Alex runs his hands through his hair, mumbling something to Logan about speaking again tomorrow morning, and Logan rudely cuts back that speaking about this tomorrow was his idea in the first place, but I’m already halfway to the door carrying the stack of clothes Monica set beside me while she leads the charge.
I follow her down the hallway, which opens up to the main deck of the ship, and down a single flight of stairs where only a few doors line the wall this time.
I can hear Logan sauntering and stumbling behind me. We have so much to talk about, don’t we?
A sudden jolt of apprehension flares in my chest when one of the doors opens, and a young woman, possibly a maid or something, hurries out of the room. Monica clicks her tongue at her before motioning to the dark space. “Well, this is you for the foreseeable future. Make yourself at home. Generally, breakfast and supper are served on the beach… but I imagine tomorrow is going to be busy, so go down to the galley if you’re hungry. It’s two floors down.”
I nod along as Logan comes up behind me, slightly breathless with pain.
Monica looks him over before dropping her eyes to me with a smile that doesn’t reach her eyes. “Goodnight. Or, good morning. I guess that depends on when you wake up.” She whirls and sways back to the stairs, disappearing in a flutter of red, silken fabric.
I close my eyes, feeling Logan all around me, his hand on my lower back as he guides me into the dark room–our room.
I don’t open them again until I hear him shut and lock the door, and light flares behind my eyelids.
I don’t see the details in the room. That’ll come later, I’m sure, when I’ve had a moment to process Logan and his bandages.
Blood seeps through some of them, painting him in streaks of deep crimson.
“Are you–”
He steps forward and takes my face between his hands, lowering his forehead to mine. He doesn’t say a single thing to me, but his mouth… moves… and his eyes are closed, like he’s praying.
I remember a conversation Aviva and my mom had a very long time ago, so long ago the details of where we’d been and why I’d been listening are hazy and fragmented. Aviva was telling her about Logan losing his parents, about a shipwreck and…
I gingerly wrap my arms around his waist, careful of his injuries, and let out a long, shaky breath. “We’re okay, Logan. I think we’re going to be okay.”
He crushes me to his chest, and I finally, finally, allow the tears to fall in earnest.